


It's the cactus, isn't it?

by Erised_Rain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erised_Rain/pseuds/Erised_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus is sick and very pissy. Fortunately, Sirius has ideas which may or may not include a shirtless werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the cactus, isn't it?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit different from what I usually write, it's...lighter? My first Hogwarts fic.

Sirius can’t sleep.

It probably has something to do with the fact that it’s roughly nine in the evening and that he’s in the middle of a noisy Gryffindor Common Room, perched on the sofa, contemplating whether hexing James Potter for the most pathetic attempt at wooing that the wizarding world has ever seen, would be considered a crime or mercy.

Mercy, he decides. It would definitely go under the ‘Put him out of his misery’ category.

And never mind the fact he’s doing it five inches away from Sirius’s head, very loudly and completely unaware of the way this is going to end  - with a vicious slap, a shriek more impressive than the one baby Mandrakes could summon (Lily Evans’s voice is, hands down, the most terrifying voice in the world) and quite possibly with a hex from Sirius, like an icing on this tragic little cake that is James Potter’s love life.

Not that Sirius feels sorry for the bastard. Pretty much like the bastard doesn’t feel sorry for Sirius’s increasingly worrying lack of sleep. Friendship at its finest right there, thinks Sirius.

He manages a few more seconds of the torture before he stands up, glares in the general direction of the offending party and makes his way to the boys dormitory. Not the best choice because Remus is upstairs, sleeping, with some sort of a bad cold that he has picked up a few days ago. And hell hath no grumpiness like a werewolf sick. Especially with the full moon two days away.

But, apparently, Sirius is either mental or in possession of a terribly low appreciation of his own life. He should know better, he really should, especially because the last time Remus got sick James ended up mute for an entire week, with livid boils on his arse. Which is exactly why he chose to sleep on the couch in the Common Room tonight. Once burned twice shy right? And Peter…well no one really saw Peter since this morning when Remus sneezed during breakfast and Peter commented on the wide population of bacteria he was spreading over his eggs.

So Sirius is careful when he opens the door, quiet, even though there is no way anyone could move now without Remus’s werewolf senses hearing it. He shuffles inside the room and, because he’s a good friend like that, he stomps over to Remus’s bed to check on him.  Remus is there, of course, pale and tucked in under what looks like an improvised mountain of blankets. Which is ridiculous, Sirius considers, what with the internal temperature of 1000 degrees Celsius his body produces on a normal day.

“You’re cold?” he asks and Remus glares at him, managing to look pissy and sick at the same time.

“No, I’m making a fort. I need a place where I can hide the bodies of all people with stupid questions.” Remus huffs sarcastically, teeth chattering. His fringe is plastered to his face with cold sweat and Sirius chooses not to feel offended by what clearly is an oblivious, fever talk.

“So is that where Peter is?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you come closer and take a look?” Remus says, way too sweet, almost disturbingly so, the tone of his voice reminding Sirius of that muggle fairytale with a witch who ate fat babies and lived in a house made of candy.

“Is bastardliness one of the symptoms of this disease?” Sirius retorts, apparently brave enough to tickle a sleeping dragon. A pissy werewolf, more like it. “Cause I’m willing to tolerate it as long as it’s your hypothalamus talking.”

Remus gives him a look then, the one Sirius likes to call a ‘why are you still breathing’ look, purely reserved for those days when he gets an E, they have sea food for lunch and end up stuck in Filch’s closet because Sirius miscalculated things . “Bastardliness isn’t even a word.” he says, teeth clenched.

“You’re giving me a language lesson now? While you’re in the middle of _dying_?” Sirius huffs. “I’ll say one thing, mate, people underestimate your vigour.”

“Kindly piss off, Black.” Remus spits out. Sirius is sure he blames him for this. For everything. Ever.

Aside from a vaguely murderous look on his face, Remus looks exhausted. He’s curled into a ball, fingers of his left hand are clutching at the sheets with such force that Sirius can practically hear bones creaking. He’s shivering, a lot, and the pale skin of his face and neck is glistening with sweat. The sight makes something in Sirius’s chest ache. Normally it would be sympathy, but right now Sirius is refusing to attach a name to it because, honestly, Remus is being an insufferable prick and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve that.

Except, well, it’s what it is.

“Move over.” Sirius sighs, taking a step towards Remus’s bed.

“What?!” Remus blinks at him. “No.”

“Your shitty attitude aside, I happen to be a very good friend.” Sirius says matter-of-factly. ”A friend who is going to save your arse by selflessly offering to share some of his body heat with you. Now, move over.”

“No.” Remus repeats stiffly.

Sirius gives an impatient, exasperated huff of air. “Remus.”

“If you come anywhere near me, so help me god I’ll bite you. And I will _enjoy_ it.” Remus practically snarls and yes, alright, Sirius gets it, there is some sort of a line here and Sirius is pushing it. Has been pushing it for a while now. But it’s what Sirius does. He pushes.

“Body to body rewarming is a medical thing, Moony.” he says with a voice normally used for explaining the complexity of old runes to a flobber worm. Something Remus doesn’t appreciate if a roll of his eyes is anything to go by.

 “I’m not having a hypothermia, idiot. Just a fever.” Splitting hairs is, obviously, what Remus does. He splits hairs.

“Maybe it works for that too.” Sirius is persistent. “Now, you can shiver and freeze yourself to death, in which case I’m gonna perform a full body-bind curse and manhandle you to the hospital wing, or you can let me help you.” He says, very careful not to grin right now but, Merlin, he’s won, he knows it. The prospect of hospital wing, sharp smell of medicine and Remus’s very famous aversion to it are on his side.

Remus sighs, and sighs again (the second time just to piss off Sirius probably), and then reluctantly kicks part of the blanket-mountain open. Sirius takes off his shoes, then his socks, because no one should wear socks in bed regardless of the situation, he’s pretty sure there’s a law about it somewhere. He’s right in the middle of wriggling out of his shirt when a low threatening growl makes him flinch.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Remus hisses, eyes narrowing very slightly. His jaw clenches and relaxes.

Sirius gives him his best ‘you’ll see, if you don’t eat me before that’ look and drops onto the mattress. Remus is still as a statue as Sirius shifts until he’s pressed against Remus’s back. God, it is so freaking hot in here, not entirely because of forty three (more or less) blankets but because Remus’s body is still bloody radiating heat, possibly boiling Sirius alive. Which clearly doesn’t help him one bit considering he’s still shivering. A sick werewolf is a strange thing indeed.

 “You’re very welcome, ungrateful prick.” Sirius huffs, plastering his face to the back of Remus’s damp neck. This is vaguely disturbing, Sirius thinks, the fact he likes the way Remus’s sweat smells. It should be disgusting really. And it’s slightly scary, yes, because Sirius didn’t truly realize how much this will involve actually touching Remus.

“ _Sirius._ ”

Remus’s voice sounds pained and Sirius can feel tense little twitches of his muscles underneath his fingers (which are conveniently and very properly, mind you, placed just above Remus’s hip). Or rather they would have been above Remus’s hip if there wasn’t a thin layer of his flannel pajamas blocking the way.

“Get that off.” Sirius says. Admittedly, Sirius has had a few fantasies about this, except in his fantasies Remus’s body wasn’t a god damned Vesuvius and he didn’t look like a troubled serial killer. Unless, of course, orgasm doesn’t wake some wolf-murderous sentiments in him in which case Sirius is willing to risk.

And fuck it, now he is thinking about orgasms and even though Sirius isn’t the most romantic person in the world he would hate it if he had to explain his feelings with a random stiffy. Because, there is nothing, _nothing_ sexy about illness and he should repeat that to himself.

“Excuse me?” Remus snaps through his teeth.

“Off.” Sirius clarifies with another tug.

“No way.”

 “Body-to-body actually implies a _physical_ contact, Remus. Otherwise this would have been named body-to-shirt method which is-”

“I know what it means. Jesus Christ!” Remus hisses and Sirius chooses to pretend that he has seen the logic of Sirius’s explanation, maybe even appreciates the wittiness of it,  rather than thinking up a nice, quiet place where he can dump his body.

Sirius tugs at his pajamas again.

“Sirius, stop it. Leave it.” Remus says, threat practically tangible in his voice. He lets out a low growl of irritation that speaks of control stretched to near-breaking point. “Leave. it.”

“But it’s all sweaty and that can’t be good.” Sirius points out.

Remus doesn't look like he has any intention of answering that.

“Is this about some weird self-conscious issue? Because I’ve seen you starkers before, mate, and unless you have some disturbing gooey, fish-smelling things growing under there, take it off. It’s just gonna get colder and colder. And colder.”

Remus just breathes angrily.

“Look, I’m trying to help.”

“ _Fine_.” he hisses. “Yeah, okay, _helping_ \- that I get, just…just do it without so much touching.” Remus sighs as if Sirius’s mere existence is pissing him off, but he does take his shirt off so Sirius guesses he’s said something right. He waits until Remus settles down before squishing his back again, fingers hesitating a little before pressing against heated, damp skin around the curve of Remus’s waist. Remus’s skin is soft there, feeling weirdly intimate when he’s pressed this close to him. Sirius tries very hard not to think about inconvenient things right now.

Except that he can bloody _feel_ muscles moving under his fingers every time Remus inhales and fuck it, _fuckfuckfuck_ it’s a little fast and Sirius’s mind is uncontrollably rushing to a hundred places where it shouldn’t be.

There's a few seconds of grumpy, close-to-awkward silence. Sirius should probably shut up now but he just can’t help himself. Mainly because he needs to talk or something, _anything_ , so he doesn't think about er...other things.

“Why are you so pissy anyway, it’s not like I’ve never been in your bed before. Remember the first year, when I had nightmares?” Sirius asks, mostly the back of Remus neck where he feels the muscles twitch angrily. The thing about Remus, Sirius thinks, is that he's quiet and patient and, God, so infuriatingly stubborn, always trying to blend in with his surroundings, to be invisible that Sirius can't help but challenge him sometimes, push him, test him just to make his heart race and his blood boil, poke at him just to see how hard he'll bite back. And he can bite back. Viciously. And right now, Sirius isn’t sure what he wants to achieve. He just…pushes.

“About a giant cactus trying to eat you?”

Sirius can practically _feel_ how Remus rolls his eyes at that.

“It had my mother’s face.” he protests.

“It was a _cactus_.”

Which, thinks Sirius, is a perfect example of missing a point. “Cactus or not, that face is more than enough to traumatize Gromp The Fearless himself, let alone an eleven-year-old. You should be happy I didn’t piss myself all over your bed.”

“Charming.” Remus snorts, sound that vibrates against Sirius’s chest.  There’s a corresponding noise in Sirius’s throat, some sort of a really embarrassing noise that would make all of this even more awkward so Sirius swallows it down. ”Well, that was years ago. Before we had chest hair, a sense of self-consciousness and great appreciation of a personal space and yes, I am well aware the latter is still foreign to you. But it’s different now, you can’t  just do that. _Sirius_.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s…it’s not normal.”

And Merlin, if that isn’t the stupidest argument  in the history of mankind, Sirius thinks, and that means something because Sirius has been best friends with James Potter for years and this is STILL the stupidest argument he has ever heard.

“I’m a Black, the lunacy of my mind has been debatable for centuries and you’re a werewolf. A very sick werewolf. There was never the slightest chance for normal, mate. ” he huffs into Remus’s neck, wriggling closer. And the whole thing about personal space, seriously, what the hell is that, they’re so far into each other’s personal spaces that you couldn’t even call it a space, let alone personal.

“Fair point.” Remus says tightly. “Just…Just stop squirming so much.”

“Sorry.” He isn’t, really.

They lie like that for a few minutes during which Sirius is pretty sure he is melting for a whole host of reasons but he doesn’t mind it one a bit. Remus is still surrounded by a grey cloud of grumpiness but at least he stopped shivering.  A testament to Sirius’s genious right there!

“See, it stopped, ha I cured you!” he thinks it’s highly necessary to point that out. “ _Thank you, Sirius, you’re the best friend in the whole fucking world, what would I do without you_ \- would be a nice way to start thanking me.”

“Go to sleep Sirius.” Remus says firmly. ”And get your face out of my neck.”

“But I’m helping.” Sirius points out.

“And you’re doing a bloody stellar job!” the words are heavily sarcastic but also a little rushed, breathless. “Your face,  out of my neck. Now.”

Sirius doesn’t move but he does mumble “Thankless fucking arsehole.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Remus snaps. “Just sleep then.”

“Fine.

“Fine.”

 

\------

At 2:32 am Sirius decides that this just might be one of the most confusing experiences in his life and yes, that does include that night when he dreamt about a strangely shaped tomato and woke up sticky and more than a little concerned for his mental well-being. Remus has spent _hours_ twisting and turning, freezing in one moment, boiling in the next, kicking off the blankets and kicking Sirius out of the bed (twice!), only to cling to him the very minute he climbed back in.

 

\------

At 3:03 Remus mutters 'Yellow. I hate yellow. Turnips.' and kicks Sirius in the shin. Sirius starts to regret his decision.

 

\------

Mercifully, sometime around 5 in the morning the fever drops down and Remus finally falls asleep.

 

\------

 

When Sirius wakes up in the morning it’s with a feeling like he has been battling rabid Erumpents all night long and with a pain in his leg that will later develop into a spectacular bruise. 

He isn’t pressed against Remus’s back anymore, oh no, he is pressed against Remus’s chest, Remus’s hips, Remus’s stomach, well, against Remus in general. Their legs are tangled together, almost embarrassingly intimate…scratch that, _definitely_ embarrassingly intimate - Sirius’s left knee is tucked between Remus’s thighs, his hand doesn’t feel like his hand anymore because, apparently, it has spent quite some time squashed under Remus’s head (which is still a better choice than the one his right hand made, sleeping fingers pressed to the sharp line of Remus’s hip, thumb almost-touching the soft hairs below his belly. 

Not that Remus’s hands are all that innocent, thank you very much, because he has his palm splayed possessively, and very, very low, against Sirius’s spine. Very, _very_ inappropriately low.

Sirius can _feel_ him breathe - a warm puff of breath on his face, dangerously close. He wonders how _close_ exactly but he has no balls to open his eyes and check.

Because well, like this isn’t mortally embarrassing enough, the next realization shocks his entire system. Sirius is _hard_ , very, achingly, enough-to-drill-stone hard. And, holy shit, so is Remus! His cock - _his not-at-all-tiny cock_ \- Sirius panics briefly, is happily making its presence known against Sirius’s belly.

Oh bloody fucking hell, if there ever was a thing that deserved to be labeled ' _disaster'_ then this is it. Epitome of a disaster. A paradigm. Right perfect disaster. Even according to Sirius’s definition of it which is known to be quite, ah, stretched?

Okay, Sirius considers, maybe not, maybe he was overreacting a bit there. First of all, if Remus is capable of developing an impressive stiffy then he must be feeling better, a lot better which is a great thing. Praise heavens, thank Merlin, bless all wizarding and muggle gods, whatever deity is up there and all that tosh. 

Secondly, they’re boys, teenage boys with fully functional parts of their anatomies, right? Morning erection is perfectly normal,is it not? Surely that’s understandable, basic biology right there.

And thirdly, Remus is clearly still asleep, he must be because he isn’t saying anything, or shoving Sirius off, or generally burying his teeth in Sirius’s carotid artery. Now he just has to untangle himself before this whole thing gets too awkward, then slip out of the bed and pretend like this has never happened.

A great plan, that. Truly.

Sirius opens one eye cautiously. Then the other.  And then he dies. Not literally, no, but his heart does stop for a moment because - holy fucking Merlin - Remus isn’t asleep. Oh no, he’s very much awake, staring at Sirius, merely three inches away from his face. His eyes are wide open, cheekbones barely flushed and the expression on his face is stranded somewhere between confusion, embarrassment, anger and…bloody hell, that looks a lot like, like he’s actually turned on. Not that Sirius knows how Remus’s turned-on face looks like but, Merlin almighty, it must be something very close to this.

Sirius swallows hard, trying not to have a full blown panic attack.

He should probably go away now, disappear preferably, maybe even apologize for the fact his cock has a mind of its own, but in order to do any of that he has to move and that will undoubtedly have an embarrassing, not-at-all-unpleasant effect. So he opts to just stare back at Remus, to breathe and wait for the earth to open up and swallow him, which seems like a vastly better option than anything else that could be happening right now.

Like, for example, Remus gnawing on his insides?

Or breaking his arm, or breaking _something else_ , far more valuable?

Or-

But before Sirius’s brain can shuffle through all the possible scenarios, Remus makes a tiniest nudge of his hips. _What the_ \- Sirius lets out a shocked little moan, feeling explosion of heat all the way from his toes to his groin.

“R-Remus?” He'd be more embarrassed about how breathy and high his voice sounds right now but then Remus does it again.

Oh my god, _oh my god,_ fuck that’s… _brilliant_. Sirius’s heart jumps as he exhales, a long shaky breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. Remus is still intently looking at him, only his breathing is a little faster now and without really meaning to Sirius tightens his grip on Remus’s hips and gently rocks forward.

An action that results in a whole new level of brilliant.

Remus groans through his teeth, and pushes back, slow and steady. Yes, this is something mutual now, they’re, they’re…well, they’re having sex don’t they? Sort of, getting there, very fast if it is judging by the way Remus’s hand slips under the waistband of Sirius’s jeans, hot palm against Sirius’s arse, and pulls him closer.

And this, this is, yes brilliant, but also _terrifyin_ g because Remus Lupin is one huge apocalypse waiting to happen. He’s one big mess of self-esteem problems, bottled-up emotions and issues, rather scary at times with the bookish deviousness and ‘I’ll bite you, I swear to god’ and Sirius isn’t sure if he’s ready for that, hell he isn’t perfectly balanced himself. But, bugger all, he likes him, really likes him, has for a long time.

And he really wants to kiss him now, which proves to be a lot easier than he thought when he leans in and closes tiny space between their mouths. Remus makes this noise that sounds ripped out of his throat, raw but content, Sirius suspects it’s satisfaction. He also has a bit of stubble that feels scratchy against Sirius’s skin, burning, but in a good way. His lips are chapped, rough, but the hand that slips around Sirius’s neck is soft and firm and impossibly warm.

And just like that, they’re kissing, wet and enthusiastic and just a little bit clumsy. Sirius briefly wonders if he’s being too eager or something embarrassing like that, but when Remus gives a shuddering moan, Sirius forgets how to think. He moves his hand down, shoves it past the waistband of Remus’s pajamas and tugs them down, pulling Remus flush against him _. Oh. Oh,_ that’s _good._

“Fuck.” Remus gasps into his mouth, warm fingers on Sirius’s arse quickly reciprocating the action, tugging Sirius’s jeans down. It’s a bit awkward, they won’t just come off so Sirius has to help a little. He shifts, quickly shoving the offending clothes down and – _oh_ \- it’s all naked skin now, hot and sweaty and amazing. With them both on their sides it’s a little difficult, no proper leverage, no leverage at all. Sirius breaks the kiss and cranes his neck to look down, because he has to, he has to see it. Remus’s cock is thick and perfect, wet at the tip and the best thing about it is that it’s sliding rhythmically against Sirius’s own.

“Oh my god.” he says breathlessly, grip on Remus’s arse tightening as he pushes, a little harder, faster and Remus responds eagerly. Then it’s just panting, and sloppy kisses and slightly frantic motions. Remus’s nails are digging desperately into the soft flesh of Sirius’s hip, something which will definitely leave bruises but fuck if Sirius cares.

“We shouldn’t, we shouldn’t…” Remus breaks the kiss, panting against Sirius’s cheek, but he doesn’t stop. Sirius chooses to interpret that as ‘we should, we should.’

“You stop,” Sirius breathes and rolls his hips, fuck, _there_ , yes. “And I kill you.” He grips onto Remus’s back, tries to move him, and Remus complies, sliding his body over on top of Sirius’s own, caging Sirius’s hips with his thighs. And, bloody fuck, this is even better now because Remus’s erection is pressing hard, _harder_ , against Sirius’s own. Remus’s weight on top of him is steady and firm, pressing him into the mattress, pinning him there, just the right side of claustrophobic.  

One of Remus’s hands travels up and settles against the side of his face, tilting it to expose the curve of Sirius’s throat. Not a second later his mouth moves there, nipping carefully at the sensitive skin of Sirius’s jaw.

“I want-.” Remus sucks in a breath against Sirius’s skin. “Can I-?”

“Yes, _yes_ , anything. Everything.” Sirius manages not entirely sure what he’s saying yes to but he tosses his head back, making it easier for Remus to do whatever he wants. And yes, he must be doing something right because Remus nearly groans, burying his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck. He inhales audibly before closing his teeth around Sirius’s pulse point, not too strong but not too gentle either. Definitely enough to leave a mark, Sirius thinks, a mark that no shirt will be able to cover. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, it occurs to Sirius that this is the most primal instinct right here, a wolf thing, and he is currently baring his neck, the most vulnerable part of himself, to a six feet tall werewolf. Who is _fucking_ marking him. And then…whoa, there is licking and sucking and more biting involved and he can’t bring himself to care.

Logically (the word never associated with Sirius) this shouldn’t be such a turn on… what with the full moon so close, slightly scary wolf instincts and very sharp teeth, but Sirius trusts Remus. He trusts him to rein in it just enough to keep Sirius unharmed, with his throat intact and without any vital blood vessels being ripped open.

Also, the thing is, Sirius rather  _enjoys_  the danger, the thrill of it, always has and he’s not very sure what that says about him as a mentally competent individual but, right now, he isn’t keen to analyze it very closely. He thinks his cock would have a word or two to say on that matter.

 Then again his cock has better things to do right now.

 “Fuck!” Remus chokes, voice low, cracked at the edges before he’s coming all over Sirius with jerky, erratic thrusts. He braces his hand against Sirius’s jaw, a little too tight, almost too strong, and growls ‘Sirius!’ against his mouth before catching his lips in a brutal kiss.

Sirius shudders, closes his eyes, caught up in the feeling of Remus shaking above him and within moments he, too, is coming between them, breathing in and out in harsh pants.

When he opens his eyes, Remus is staring at him, again, but now he’s flushed and looking slightly chaotic, mortified as hell.

“Oh god.” he croaks, sounding pained. “What have we done?” he manages, trying to disentangle himself from Sirius but Sirius is having none of that. They’re pressed so tightly together and he’s determined to keep it that way until his brain kicks into full gear again.

“I believe we just had sex.” he says intelligently, voice still hoarse. “Not the good, old penetrative kind but still sex.” Great, he is definitely _not_ thinking about penetrative sex now. Penetration, in any way. Definitely not.

Remus looks at him with a look purely reserved for mentally-damaged. “No. No. No.” he is murmuring and Sirius wonders briefly who is supposed to be the one with a mental damage here.

“Circumstantial evidence does rather suggest that.” Even with a hypothetical brain damage, Sirius thinks, Remus’s tactile receptors should be well enough to feel the wet mess sticking them together. There’s just---there’s a lot of come on Sirius. Which is not at all disgusting as Sirius expected it to be. And, Merlin’s balls, that’s fucked up, isn’t it? Sirius is so fucked.

“Sex.”  Remus says, mouth squashed into the most adorable, lost expression Sirius has ever seen. He would have thought of cute, confused puppies if it wasn’t for the whole excuse -me-for-a-moment-it’s-the-full-moon-im-gonna-go-and-transform-into-a-blood-thirsty-monster-cheerio thing.

“Yes. The thing where two people, well…it can be more than that, depends on the preferences really, get naked and do things with each other using various parts of their naked bodies.” he waves his hand helpfully somewhere in the vague direction of their cocks. ”Merlin, Moony, aren’t you a little old for the birds and the bees talk. Well, bees and the bees would be a more adequate term, yes?”

“Sirius.”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking. Just shut up.” Remus says exasperatedly. He pulls away now, it’s not like Sirius can stop him when he sets his mind to something, the whole lanky werewolf strength thing is actually a thing even though Remus tries frantically to ignore it. This is no good, not good at all, because there is fucking _space_ between them now. It feels all wrong and Sirius doesn’t like it.

Remus is lying on his back now, rubbing his eyelids like he always does when he thinks about something serious. Like Transfiguration homework, or detention, or the fact they just fucked. That.

Sirius props himself up on his elbow. “Are you going to have a melt-down now?”

“Right now I’m having the urge to strangle you.” Remus threatens, glaring at him. Not the world’s most perfect after-sex talk probably. By all that is normal, Sirius should at least feel a little scared, maybe even shut the fuck up. The problem is – he isn’t, he isn’t scared at all. He thinks it has something to do with the fact he has seen how Remus looks like when he comes and now it’s all hell from here.

“If that’s your idea of a pillow talk we…well, we’re gonna have to work on that.” Sirius huffs. Remus doesn’t look amused at all, let alone willing to work on it.

“Why aren’t you bloody concerned?!” he snaps.

“Why would I be?” Sirius leans against him. That is how concerned he is.

“Because, Sirius.” Remus says stiffly, jerking his arm away. “These things ruin friendships. I’m a- and you’re. I was doing so well, you…you prick! Fuck- Christ, fuck, we shouldn’t have done this.” He’s getting a little repetitive, Sirius thinks, scooting closer again.

“By ruin you mean make things mind-blowingly better?” he puffs a breath over Remus’s skin, delighting in the way he shivers. “Couldn’t agree more.”

 “How can-“ Remus exhales angrily. “Is everything that simple for you?!”

Sirius suddenly realizes it is. It really is. “This _is_ simple. I like you, you like me. We shag.” When Remus doesn’t object to liking him Sirius continues, bolder. “It’s you who’s making things hard. Er...no pun intended, honest. It’s what you do, I get that, but don’t screw this up with your over-analyzing, inner crisis. No need for that really.” he grins at him, pressing a warm kiss to Remus’s shoulder before sitting up. ”I’m gonna go take a shower now so you have…hmm…about 10 minutes to have a nervous breakdown. When I come back we’re gonna go down, have a nice cup of tea and explain James that the noises he undoubtedly heard weren’t me being ripped to pieces by a murderous werewolf. ”

“You’re going to tell James?”

“Of course I’m going to tell James.” Sirius sighs. He tells James everything, he even told him about that weird tomato dream. The decision Sirius will regret for the rest of his life probably. “To prevent all the mind scarring bound to happen if he ever walks in on us. You know….because we are going to shag. A lot. ”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

Remus’s eyes narrow very slightly. “Who says I have any intention of engaging in those...activities?”

“Oh please, Lupin.” Sirius rolls his eyes, biting back a smile. “We’re _so_ going to shag.”   

Remus just stares at him and then pulls himself to a sit so that his shoulder is brushing against Sirius’s. “Is this going to be a thing now?” He finally asks. “You’re going to be a smug, bossy bastard…nothing new there, yes, but now you’re going to be a smug, bossy, _naked_ - _in-my-bed_ bastard in this-?”

“Relationship?” Sirius supplies before even realizing it. But yes, he wants that. He really wants that.

“Relationship.” Remus repeats faintly. ”Relationship?”

“Yes. “ Sirius grins. “And yes.” He tilts his head, leaning closer so that his mouth brushes the shell of Remus’s ear. “But I’m gonna let you fuck me.” he whispers. Remus’s eyes squeeze shut and he takes one sharp inhale, bordering on a growl. He opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Blimey, a speechless prefect.” Sirius hums. “I thought that species was extinct.”

Remus pokes him in the chest lightly.

“Are you expecting a coherent answer now while you’re sitting here, naked, smelling like sex and you and me, and saying things like that- _God,_ does anything coming out of your mouth get filtered?!” Remus laughs shakily, fingers flexing in what Sirius recognizes as Remus Lupin attempting to gather his self-control from wherever it has run off to. Sirius has a pretty good idea where.

He smirks, positively evil.

“I think I’m gonna let you test that later.”

Then he’s being pushed out of the bed none too gently as Remus hisses “Shower. Go shower, now. Or you won’t get to shower for the next five hours.”

“Five hours?” Sirius cocks an eyebrow playfully but he does stand up. “I’ve heard stories about werewolf stamina but five hours?”

“Shower!”

“What if I need help with washing my back? You know, this handsome, naked, sex-smelling back?” he asks innocently.

“Merlin- you’re gonna drive me into an early grave, aren’t you?” Remus shakes his head, sounding exasperated but there’s definitely a very predatory-looking smile on his lips. “Why do I put up with you?”

“It’s the cactus isn’t it? You have a sick fetish for boys with cactus-nightmares.” Sirius retorts shuffling into the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door open.

“It must be that.” he hears Remus saying before the sound gets muffled by the creak of old bed springs and Sirius grins. Looks like James will have to wait for his explanation for a few hours after all.

 

 

 


End file.
